The Wolf Who Lived Preview
by EternalKnight219
Summary: A preview of my newest plot bunny: The Potters are a very mysterious family, even for the Wizarding World. Harrion Potter is the last of his family, but remains unknowing of his family legacy. However, it takes a Horcrux, a secret chamber, and a basilisk to give Harry Potter a chance to learn what it means to be a Potter.


_**The Wolf Who Lived**_

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 _ **AN: This is a new plot bunny. There will be an attached challenge for anyone interested in taking up this story. I do not own any of the properties in this story (at least not most of them). This will not be updated regularly, if updated at all. I am just getting this idea down on paper right now. I also suggest listening to the music listed below while reading this. It will help.**_

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 _Prologue (Music Selection: Hold the Door - Ramin Djwadi)_

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He could hear them coming. Hunting him and his ilk.

They were not particularly subtle. Actually, he doubted that they truly had the ability to be subtle. But that did not change the fact that he and his comatose companion were fleeing swiftly upon the destrier he had _acquired_ from a nearby campsite. Of course, its owners did not need it anymore.

The air was bitterly cold, made worse by the fact that the chestnut horse was at full gallop through the pines. Not that it was by choice mind you.

Fearful heterochromatic eyes, one green as emerald and the other grey as steel quickly flickered back at their pursuers before returning to the path in front of them.

"Must go faster. Must go faster." A hoarse (no pun intended) young voice muttered frantically as death itself began to slowly gain ground.

His body was obscured, swaddled in heavy furs; certainly appropriate for the location he found himself a nearly a year prior. His jet black, unkempt tresses were barely visible underneath his fur hood. The only thing that seemed out of place were the two swords. A shining steel blade that shone as if it was just polished bounced against the boy's left leg as he urged the horse to hasten its pace. The second blade remained hidden in a scabbard made of a smooth, white wood.

The boy's companion was equally swaddled in heavy furs, lolling slightly in her unconscious state. Her brown eyes, normally vibrant, remain hidden behind her eyelids as they have since they both arrived in this frozen, desolate place.

A chilling shriek, almost as if a chorus of birds suddenly died simultaneously, called out from behind them. The horse, as if sensing its rider's spiking fear and anxiety, picked up the pace.

The male rider's right hand let go of the reins as he summoned a thin holly wand from his sleeve holster. Glancing quickly to his right, his mismatched eyes landed on the powerful form running alongside. To call it a wolf would be an understatement. It was the size of a smaller horse, but was already three quarters the height of the destrier he rides. A massive, greyish-white wolf with amber eyes that met his momentarily before it too began to increase its speed. The boy could only slightly marvel at the majestic, highly intelligent beast at his side.

A Direwolf.

A young Direwolf.

His thoughts shifted back to the matter at hand, an increasingly urgent one at that. He turned and raised the wand in his hand.

Whatever he said was lost in the swirling snow and the howling wind as a large gout of flame shot from the holly stick and slammed into the pursuers behind him.

He continued to cast, frantically switching between the same flame spell, explosion charms, and cutting curses to hamper the pursuers. Trees fell behind them, slightly staggering the ones giving chase to the two horse-bound companions and the wolf.

They emerged into a large clearing, allowing the teen to look back and fully grasp the severity of their situation. His eyes widened in pure horror and his blood froze in his veins.

It was more than an army.

It was a multitude. A plague sent from the depths of a frozen hell.

The Dead.

Not your average run of the mill Inferi, which were scary enough, but shrieking, shambling corpses of men and beasts sprinting across the frozen landscape at speeds that they should be incapable of possessing. A hodgepodge of animals and humans, men and women, old and young, all united in a singular purpose.

To destroy the living.

At their forefront were three distinct figures astride undead steeds. Their skin was as white as snow and looked as if they were carved from ice. Their eyes were shining blue and cold; colder than the coldest winter. They bore swords made of ice, but the boy could feel the sinister magic wafting off of the blades. Three creatures that were from the ancient tomes of his family, tomes that insisted that they were mere myth.

They screeched in anger at losing their quarry as the teen and the wolf reached the other side of the clearing, surging into the pines at breakneck speed. The snow continuing to fall heavily around him as the wind continued to howl. His eyes narrowed as he attempted to discern the sheer amount of white in the distance. They then widened as a massive form coalesced in the distance.

A wall. A massive wall that could only be made of ice loomed in the distance.

He was exhausted and so were his non-human companions. He could feel the fatigue coming over his horse as it began to slow down slightly. He pushed the destrier to the brink, feeling the renewed sense of urgency from his pursuers.

They wanted him. They wanted both of them.

He would not allow himself and his companion to die here. _'Almost there.'_

But the horse was no longer able to sustain the pace. It had been at full gallop for most of a day and was exhausted. They began to slow.

The wind howled louder and the storm intensified as their fell pursuers got closer.

Exhausted and frightened, the boy desperately raised his wand and practically shouted the fire charm.

From his memories, it would be the strongest instance of _Incendio Maximo_ he had ever cast and probably the strongest version of the spell ever recorded. A massive conflagration shot out from his spell and ignited the forest around him, staggering his relentless pursuers behind a massive wall of flames.

He knew it would not hold them for long, but hoped it would stall the dead long enough to make it to safety. The flames also served to motivate the destrier to resume a faster pace, neighing in fright, activating its fight or flight instincts.

The motley crew emerged from the forest into the snow before the wall and made for the shut gate in front of them. The boy turned to look behind him, not all that surprised to see that the three leaders of the horde emerged from the flames and continued to bear down on them.

He pointed his wand at the gate, unlocking and opening it as they and the direwolf streaked underneath and into a dark ice tunnel. Turning to look upon his furious pursuers one last time, Harry Potter pointed his wand again at the gate. _"Colloportus."_

The gate squeaked shut behind them, putting the tunnel into darkness while an enraged shriek echoed off of the frozen walls. Lighting his wand, the thirteen year old wizard directed his horse through the tunnel, emerging into a deserted courtyard of an abandoned, slightly derelict castle.

It was slightly warmer than the other side of the wall, but not by much. The thirteen-year old dismounted the horse, carrying his comatose companion off of it and tied it to a post. Gathering up snow into a trough he cast a temporary warming charm to melt the snow, giving the poor exhausted horse much needed drinking water.

He then proceeded to set up a wizarding tent, placing his comatose companion onto one of the beds. Her hood slipped off to reveal long red tresses, somewhat lank from lack of care. Ginny Weasley had been continuously unconscious for almost a year, recovering from damage to her soul dealt by the diary of the teen who would become Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle's diary possessed young Ginny to commit heinous acts and damaged her soul.

Thankfully as she is still young, her soul would recover from the damage.

As she continued to sleep, Harry gazed out of the main gate of the fortress he had stumbled upon called "Stonedoor". Feeling a soft nudge in his side, he turned to see the massive direwolf gazing intently at him. Harry nodded at the large canine as he sat down on a conjured wooden chair, swords at the ready and began to drift off to sleep, thinking of the words of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter.

"Fortune favors the bold," he muttered as his eyes began to droop, _"...for Winter is Coming…"_

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 _ **AN: So here is a new plot bunny. If anyone wants to take up the story, please PM me. Like Auspicious Rebirth, this story is merely an idea and I may or may not continue it. As you can obviously see, it will be a crossover event between Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, and A Song of Ice and Fire (which is the book series that Game of Thrones is based off of). I do not own Harry Potter. I especially do not own ASoIaF nor Game of Thrones. I am not worthy enough to own them, nor do I find the tears of my fans particularly appetizing. Review or I shall invite you to a wedding… a Red Wedding.**_


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